Vesuvius Chapel

If we bought
the one bedroom two storey
converted family chapel
in vesuvius bay british columbia

we could play bocce ball in the ferry terminal parking lot.

We could buy snow-cones at the roadside store.
I assume that they sell those,
and if they don’t, then to hell with them -
we’ll open up a snow-cone stand and make millions.

We could take long walks
through the gnarled trees
in the forest, then shorter walks
on the hard shores of the bay,
then shorter walks
along the road’s soft shoulder,
then still shorter walks in the yard,
and we could look out the window
over the hedge, and out at the water
when my limbs start to shake
and my mind begins to wander
and we’d turn,
smile softly at each other,
then look away -

and they could bury me
quietly, in the dirt
under the arbutus tree,
behind the vesuvius chapel.

Untitled (Sumac Leaves)



of a sumac

plant are like

arching green

rainbows, moving

all the way down.

They are found in

the stands by the

 fields, they envelop

  the brickworks

  hills, and they

        visit the

periphery of my dreams. In the fall,

         they turn

        as red as

     soft glorious

infernos, and they

 light Ontario on fire

with their colour.

I have seen them

  in my darker days,

  and they have


  up my




Paradise Valley Days (Lost in the Woods)

My friends all have nicknames like
“Owl” or “Juniper”. And so do I,

I assume. The stream runs down
hill through the hard lichen and

pine brush - only time and fate
know where on earth she’s headed.

As for me, I stay and wait on
winds for any trace of perfection,

‘cause one day I’d like to be
like my hero, “Forget-Me-Not”
and be glorious, beautiful and still.


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